The Orange Man
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: That Braginsky man, they say, is an odd one. .:Human AU/Underage Character/Total Shota Feels/gift-fic for lunarkitty15:.


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_"A late April day and it's sunny outside..."_

**xxx**

That Braginsky man, they say, is an odd one.

And many are inclined to believe such after the initial meeting, very quick to make their judgments of the tall Russian man with his accented speech and ever smiling face. It puts them at unease, for reasons they do not entirely comprehend, only that when in looking their way – with a friendly wave, friendly smile, friendly stance, friendly everything and all – it causes a cold shiver to rack through their bodies and sends a chill to their core. They're quick to return whatever gesture is given to them, as well as a few pleasantries with cheerful façades before making their escape indoors to further along the trail of gossip and speculation that smears the man's name, and they are not the only ones.

The children of the neighborhood revel in their own tales of Mr. Braginsky who lives at the end of their street, next to the park, in the small mud-colored house surrounded by dead grass and black iron fencing, the very same one that appears too dark at any given time of day. Their range of stories exceed from the plausible (an axe-murderer, an escaped mental patient, a psycho creeper, a deranged hermit) to the supernatural (a vampire/reverse-vampire, a werewolf, an alien, some sort of spirit) and during certain times of the year, the older children will convince the younger ones that he is the Boogeyman, the one who will lure them in by ways of kind smiles and promises, only to subject them to terrible things when finally holding them captive in his lair.

Yet there is one who does not believe these stories and has never really done so in the past. Because the little blonde boy they all know as Alfred Jones has always believed the best in people until they prove him wrong, and at a whomping age of eight years, he feels confident in telling them all that Mr. B is nicer than the nicest person in the world.

He knows first hand that the reason behind the man's home appearing subpar when compared to the others on their street is because of the amount of sunflowers decorating the landscape behind the house involves a great deal of care and in turn, a great deal of time. Alfred is aware of _this_ only for the fact of living some few houses away from Mr. Braginsky and has been given the privilege of assisting him often as an alternative to visiting the park that borders his home.

He may find him a tad strange at times, particularly in regards to the customs he practices that Alfred is unfamiliar with, though there is nothing that renders Alfred to feel as though he's in any form of danger like the stories foretell. In fact, he quite likes Mr. Braginsky, enjoys his company even and appreciates that he is the only adult to not treat him like a child. Besides the overly affectionate manner in which he pats his head when close enough as Alfred walks pass, and the way he holds his hand should they cross the street together, and the slight hugs he gives should Alfred bring good news. To this though, Alfred shrugs it off as some kind of outlet from being so far away from his family and living alone.

This is the very reason why he briefly contemplates visiting the older man in lieu when he storms out of his home, filled with a summering anger ready to burst and hot tears burning at his eyes, threatening to spill.

Alfred pays no attention to the way he slams the front door of his home, how he causes the glass to shudder within its framed panels, and he certainly does not bother to turn back upon hearing Arthur reopens the door to call out to him, demanding that he return home this instant so that the whole spectacle of their argument can come to an actual resolution. He sets a brisk pace, walking swiftly and quickly enough that he is well out of hearing range of the dissaproving sound his eldest brother makes before closing the door after he renters the house. On his own completely now, he makes the usual route down the sidewalk towards the park until he comes up to Mr. Braginsky's home. He pauses in front of the gateway, thinking that maybe taking refuge in inside would be more favorable than the open park, but quickly dismisses the thought and continues on his way, barely missing the curtains moving from the windows as a pair of eyes watch his movements.

The sound of crunching leaves and dry grass from his footfalls fill the surrounding area as he comes to stand in the center of the playing field, amongst the swing set, slide, and monkey bars. In order to fight the chill of the breeze, he spends some time in throwing rocks up at tree branches and anything else that keeps his limbs moving and warm until he takes a break by climbing the ladder to the top of the slide.

Up so high, he brings his legs up to his chest and tilts his head up to the sky, breathing a tad heavily from previous exertions and is able to recall all that has transpired between his brothers and him.

"Stupid Matthew," he mutters as theburning at his eyes begins once again. "Stupid Arthur. You're both stupid."

He becomes so caught up in his thoughts and with pressing the palms of his hands against is eyes in order to return them to normal that he hardly pays heed to the feel of the same preying eyes watching his every move from a closer distance away. In fact, he hardly notices anything, only taking an actual inkling of him not being alone by the sound of crunching leaves under heavier footfalls as they steadily approach him.

The cause of the disturbance, however, does little to unsettle him as he instantly recognizes his good friend Mr. Braginsky. The eight year-old calls out to the older man, unaware of the other's heart skipping a beat at the sight of his bright smile.

"Alfred," he greets when he's near enough to speak. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"I'm running away from home," Alfred replies without hesitation. "Because Mattie's mean to me and Arthur's the biggest jerk in the world."

A surprised expression graces the older man's face, slightly fallen kaw and wide eyes that blink rapidly in an overexaggerant manner that goes unnoticed by Alfred. "Running away from home is a serious decision. Are you sure that is what you want?"

"Yes! Do you know what they said to me?"

Of course not having any way of knowing, Mr. Braginsky shakes his head in the negative and Alfred instantly pounces on the opportunity to paint his brothers in a bad light.

"Matthew blamed me for him hitting against the wall when we were playing, but I really didn't, and it wasn't even that bad! But he started crying and Arthur came in yelling and then he started fighting with me and said I was an accident. That because I'm born last and not even really because I'm just extra from Mattie."

A sad look reaches Mr. Braginsky's eye, and though Alfred has no way of telling just how he pulls at his heart strings, he takes a bit of comfort in feeling the older man's hand reach up and run through his hair before coming down to pat at the side of his face. "Yes, that... That is a very cruel something to say."

Alfred nods frantically. "I don't ever wanna go back. I'm never going back."

"But you cannot stay out here," says Mr. Braginsky. "A pretty boy like you could be taken away by someone even meaner than Matthew or Arthur."

"I'm not pretty," the boy pouts. "And I can take of myself. I'm a big boy, you know that."

A smile curves itself on to the elder's lips. "Yes, yes I am. And I'm sure you are able to handle anything yourself very well, but in any case I would not feel right about letting you stay out here by yourself. Why not come home with me? I would not mind you staying with me until you are able to work out this whole running away business."

Alfred purses his lips in thought. "Maybe. You have to promise though, if Arthur or anyone comes looking for me that you won't tell them I'm there. I don't want them to find me."

There's an edge to that smile now, something someone a little less trusting might have noticed if paying attention. "Of course not, I understand. I can promise you that."

"Cross your heart?" Alfred pesters.

"And hope to die," Mr. Braginsky says to him while holding his hand out for him to take. "Do we have a deal."

Alfred only smiles while placing his smaller hand into the larger and nods his head again. Mr. Braginsky is kind enough to help him down the slide by keeping a firm grip on his hand as he travels down the expanse of slick metal, and Alfred cannot say he minds in the slightest, even as his feet hit the ground and his hand has still not been freed. After all, he is so grateful for this favor being granted to him that he feels as though it's the least he can do, a sort of service he is able to perform easily enough as he follows Mr. Braginsky back to his home.

"I have a new sunflower sapling, by the way," he says to the child. "Perhaps we may plant it together to put this terrible business out of mind."

"Okay! Where are we gonna plant this one?" Alfred asks, sweet naïveté lacing his words.

"Somewhere special" the elder answers. "I'll be sure to pick out the very best spot for this one. It certainly does deserve such..."

**xxx**

Disclaimer: Don't worry, I've got you.

-I should really write Alfred being a creeper for kids just to change it up a bit, I keep picking on Ivan. B/

-Anyway, reprise of a drabble I drabbled some time ago (you can find it under Shuffle Truffle) as a very late Halloween/now birthday gift-fic for lunarkitty15 because she's awesome like none of you can believe and is a very shiny girl. :3

-Anyway, hope it's okay, girlie. It's differentish from the drabble, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. ^-^

-All right, everyone! Stay shiny, Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate, and Happy Birthday to mi amiga on the interwebz, I'm out~. –xoxo-


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